What If?
by Dream Writer 4 Life
Summary: *UPDATE: Syd's POV is up* S/V. "You learn more about a person in one hour of play than from a year of conversation." --Plato. But what if you never get to play? Vaughn's and Syd's POV on some what-ifs. Please R/R!
1. Normal Michael Vaughn

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Disclaimer: I do not own Alias…or an umbrella…or much of anything! Don't sue! I'll have nothing to give you! But reviews are always nice…I wonder if you can sue for reviews…

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What If?

You know, they say that you can discover more about a person in an hour of play than in a year of conversation. But what if you never get to play?

Syd and I never get to play. _Agent Bristow_ and _Agent Vaughn_ have the conversations while _Sydney_ and _Michael_ struggle not to let themselves burst out and, God forbid, actually speak their minds. Agent Vaughn and Agent Bristow talk about how the last mission went and possibilities for yet another counter-mission; Michael and Sydney sit quietly by, twiddling their thumbs, waiting for a time when counter-missions won't be necessary. The handler informs his asset of the newest security threat, and Mike tries to resist the urge to sweep everything off the table and throw Syd upon it, ravishing her body for hours. Play? I think not.

They also say that if you think about the what-ifs, you'll never get around to what is. Right now, I'd rather stick with the what-ifs: they're a lot more pleasant than what actually is. So, if you don't mind, I might just dabble into the fantasy world for a while, soak in my own self pity until I find the courage to dial up that number and ask for yet another Joey's Pizza. Don't mind the occasional random thoughts; I'm just saying whatever pops into my head, and if that includes needing to get fabric softener on the way home, so be it. Let's start at the beginning.

What if I hadn't met Miss Sydney Bristow? What if she had never come running into the CIA with her Valentine's-red hair? Would I still be in love with Alice? Would we be married? Or would I still be longing for that perfect someone? Knowing she was just around a corner, but knowing which one was a different story. I can't just assume that Syd and I would have met each other, CIA or no CIA; in my line of work, you learn quickly that there is no such thing as fate or destiny. Nothing happens for a reason, but because of a choice someone made at one point in time. Sydney made the choice of becoming a double agent, and I decided to join the CIA as a result of my father's demise. Only after those choices did we even have a _chance_ at meeting. It would have been just as easy for Devlin to have assigned her to Weiss instead of me. But I thank God every day that did not happen.

This is my theory: if I did not meet Sydney Bristow when I did, my watch wouldn't have stopped. Before that fateful day, I had made a pact with myself. My father said that a person could set his heart by this watch, and I intended to. I said to myself, I said: the day Dad's watch stops is the day that I meet the person I'll spend the rest of my life with. If my watch never stopped…well, I'd be a creepy old bachelor who stayed up late at night looking up pictures of Britney Spears on the Internet. I won't settle for second place, the consolation prize; never have, never will. When it comes to the most important decision in life, I was not going to leave it in the hands of something other than my watch. I may not believe in fate, but I am extremely superstitious. 

Number two: what if Syd and I had been just one foot closer after my rescue in Taipei? Now, I bet you were expecting a question about winding up needing a rescue in the first place. Yes, I did wonder about that, but not needing deliverance and making it out of that place with Sydney had a less favourable outcome, so I didn't dwell on it long. If I had escaped with her, it would have ended like any other mission: "Good job, Syd. See ya back in LA for your debriefing." As it is, the reality of the matter was unpleasant enough: I was one foot away from tasting her sweet lips, thanking her in the primal, hormonal way I wanted. I can't even remember what I said (damn adrenaline; made everything go so fast and not the way I would have preferred), but it was nowhere near what I was thinking. Now, I'm not one for flowery speeches, but I definitely would have sacrificed all of my testosterone for one uninhibited minute alone with her.

Every time that thought comes up in the back of my mind, I remind myself of one thing: if I had totally lost it and tried to jump her blonde bones, she would have failed in her mission, been found out, and subsequently killed. Gee, when you think of it that way, self-restraint is not that bad.

Speaking of which, I need to get a new leash for Donovan. Got to write that down…

So far, we've been having the yearlong conversation. Stop me when you see the playing begin.

Now where was I? Oh, yes. Perplexity number three. What if Sydney's mother had never turned herself in? What if she had never found out about Project Christmas? See, these come as a packaged deal because…well, because they're Sydney's parents, and each has as profound an effect as the other regarding her mental state. Let's start with her mother.

Irina Derevko surrendered herself to the government for unknown reasons. But since then, Sydney and I have become profoundly closer, probably because of our mutual unfathomable hatred for this woman. She murdered my father and my hope for a normal job; she slaughtered Laura Bristow and the emotional side of Jack Bristow. With the disintegration of our respective families, we have no one to confide in but each other, Derevko serving as the pivotal screw in our similarly dysfunctional families. If the bitch hadn't turned herself in…well, we wouldn't be as close as we are now. Simple as that. The same goes for the revelation of Syd's participation in her father's Project Christmas. I can barely begin to imagine the betrayal she must have felt when she realized the full magnitude of what had happened. _And she came to me: just me._ Despite the dismal situation, that was definitely my cream filling. Or is the expression silver lining?

_Numero quatre_: what if "Rita" had never met Alice? Yeah, I'm gonna bring _that_ up. This thought almost goes back to the second question. If I had made it out, then I would have been exposed to the virus as long as Syd, therefore not sending me to the hospital and allowing the opportunity for the two women in my life to meet. I've thought about this question long and hard, and I've only been able to come up with one remotely satisfying answer: it would have happened eventually. No, I'm not saying it was _destined_ to happen, just that Syd would eventually find out about Alice. After all, she's my…girlfriend. Believe me, I'm starting to choke as much as you do when I say "Alice" and (gulp) "girlfriend" in the same sentence. The thing is, the situation wasn't exactly what I would've liked it to be. I had at least hoped I could be there to introduce the two, not in an operating room where they were trying to stabilize my vital signs. And the time at the restaurant…God, that was pure SD-6/Alliance-like torture. I wanted to rip my arm off for still gripping Alice's hand like a small, lost child. The look in Syd's eyes when she saw the two of us walk in…I would subject myself to perpetual, daily torture for the rest of my life before I ever want to see her eyes radiate that look again. And I yearned to wrap a nice, long strip of duct tape across Alice's flapping mouth; she was so sickly sweet and courteous in that obviously awkward situation. I've always wondered if she couldn't feel the tension; for Syd, Will, and me it was as palpable as the clothes we were wearing.

That reminds me. I need to get a new suit. I mean, it is pretty sad when your asset compliments you on your attire and that's only because you haven't worn it in ages. Yeah, that was pretty uncomfortable too. Maybe I'll get a suit in Sydney's favourite colour: green.

Now, the biggest and most thought-about conundrum of them all: the mother load. What if I had caught up to Sydney? You know, when I tried to explain about Alice and she ran away? That. See, I've spent many a sleepless night thinking about this, turning it over and over in my head, contemplating it so hard that I'd have a giant migraine in the morning and have to take my economy-size jar of aspirin to the office the next day. All that time and I've come up with…nothing. Not one thing. If I drew even with Syd that day, I'm not sure what I would have said; I could have made her listen, but she would have cleaned my clock so quickly that I wouldn't have even known that I got her attention. I could have told her the truth, but that might have lead to even more unpleasantness: broken jaw, missing teeth, permanent inability to have children. On the other side of that same vein, her face could have lit up in a haze of passion and proclaimed her undying love, laying claim to me by seizing my lips, literally taking my breath away and making my skin hum and yearn for more contact…YEAH RIGHT! Wake up, Vaughn! Dream's over! Back to reality! Yeah, I know it sucks, but what can you do? That's the way I _wished_ it had gone down. But all work and no play makes Michael Vaughn…normal.

"All life is is four or five big days that change everything." Yeah. Tell me about it.

You know, they say that you can discover more about a person in an hour of play than in a year of conversation. But what if you never get to play?

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Author's Note: Another one of my one-chapter stories. But…I could do another batch of what-ifs from Syd's point of view. I'd need some suggestions, though. I think I pretty much used the big ones in this story. Anyways…REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW, REVIEW!!! LoL. I love them: 'tis my very food! 

: ) Becky, the Dream Writer 4 Life


	2. Sydney's Soapbox

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Disclaimer: Same as before. Don't own anything of value except a brain, and even that is under speculation. Don't sue!

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Chapter 2

You know, they say that you can discover more about a person in an hour of play than in a year of conversation. But what if you never get to play?

Well, I shouldn't say never: Nice was as close to _playing_ as Vaughn and I have ever gotten. Despite the uncomfortable and mortifying beginning (and incessantly calling him "Vaughn"), it was one of the most wonderful nights of my life. Ah! But I'm getting ahead of myself now.

James Baldwin is one of my heroes. Not really: I've only heard of him once or twice during literature classes. But I remembered one thing about him: he said/wrote some really profound stuff. James Baldwin once said, "One can only face in others what one can face in oneself." And I'd have just one question to ask him. What if you can't face yourself? Because I certainly can't.

I hate my abilities: my ability to lie, to cheat, to steal. If I took the Bible literally (black and white, no grey area), I would be _so_ damned to Hell. Damned to the deepest, most fiery pit: the rock bottom. See, there would be rock bottom, SD-6 torture, fifty feet of crap, then me. Can't you just feel the love? 

Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to vent for a while, get up on my soapbox, if you will. I know what you're thinking and yes, I probably should be spending my once-in-a-blue-moon time off doing something more productive. But you know what I say? Why the hell not? I do it all the time, especially when I'm bored; thinking about the what-ifs is kinda like my equivalent of doodling or picking the dirt from fingernails. This is my most valued time, the time that I can be completely truthful and honest, so you'll forgive me if I branch off onto miscellaneous thoughts or memories. I'm not sure how much "down time" I'll have before my next wrong number, so I'll try not to bore you with details and be frank. I would start at the beginning, but there seems to be some controversy as to when that actually was. So…judgement call time! (Don't you just _love_ those? Not.) I'll spin around in a circle, close my eyes, point my finger, and stop randomly…

What if I hadn't taken up SD-6's offer? Yeah. I believe this is a possible starting point; pretty much everything went downhill from here. If I hadn't taken the job at SD-6, I would probably still be in college or even grad school; I haven't had a lot of time to dedicate to my studies, what with being a double agent and all. But I guess I would've gotten swept up into this whole government-conspiracy mess in the end. Dad, with his irrepressible need to involve me and complicate my life, would have found a way to include me in the takedown of SD-6. No ifs, ands, or buts about it; he knows I'm smart enough for the job. I mean, come on! Project Christmas ring a bell, anybody? It's my freakin' destiny to be able to serve this country. If I hadn't, though, Danny would be alive and, hey, we could probably be married by now. Now that I think about it, I'm not quite sure how I feel about that. If I had followed through with the engagement and gotten married, where would Michael Vaughn be in all of this? Oh, but I forgot: if I hadn't accepted SD-6 employment, I wouldn't have felt compelled to become a double agent and, therefore, no contact with Vaughn. Wow. That puts a whole new spin on things.

Along the same vein, what if Sloane hadn't had Danny killed? What if I hadn't told Danny? Or what if I had just explained to him that we could only talk about my "situation" face to face in a secure location? I always sigh when I think about this; my immense stupidity just astounds me. I couldn't have just kept my mouth shut or lied through my teeth like I do to everyone else who's close to me: no, that would have been too easy. But I won't dwell on that; you know what they say: hindsight is twenty-twenty. If Danny was still alive (and I was still pulling the wool over Sloane's eyes), there is no doubt in my mind that we would no longer be engaged. Danny was the type of person who couldn't be lied to for long without knowing something was up. And he would not have stuck around if he had the knowledge that his fiancée had been keeping him in the dark at every turn. Then there's the V.F.: Vaughn Factor. Now that I think about it, _he_ would have definitely had a say in how my love life played out. I would have probably been too reluctant to wear my engagement ring around him, leading Vaughn on with the pretense that this strange "Danny" person I kept blabbering about only really existed in my head.

Speaking of ring, where did I put that sucker? I can't remember. I _know_ I did not sell it or throw it away: there was way too many unresolved issues with that article of jewelry to just pass it on to some unsuspecting victim. Oh, yes, it's coming back to me. It's probably still wedged under my mattress next to my diary that I haven't touched in God only knows how long. I've really got to start writing in it more…Oh yeah…Right…

I've wondered about this next one quite often. What if my family was different? Okay, now take what you're thinking and toss it out the window; that's not what I mean. What I'm talking about is mostly my family's behavior and how it affects/affected my view and selection of men. If my father hadn't incessantly betrayed me (first by including me in Project Christmas and then lying about it later), would I be less wary of the men in my life? Less prone to asking questions about loyal intimacy? Maybe. Perhaps I wouldn't have this nagging feeling radiating from my gut every time Vaughn promises something. I _know_ I wouldn't have been as guarded as I was on our date in Nice; while on the outside I was the picture of composure and coldness, inside Sydney was pushing through all the walls and trying to surface. I say "Sydney" because that's what I call my honest, straightforward, true self. I really didn't want to seem as arrogant as I did: Sydney was enjoying being in his company more than anything, even though I couldn't show it. I also wonder if my inability to show my (gulp) feelings for the men in my life has to do with my mother's treatment of the opposite sex. Let's take an example: say…Vaughn. I suppose that somewhere, deep inside, I'm afraid that if I allow myself to get too close to him, I'll desert and destroy Vaughn like Irina did to my father. And I love him too much to permit that to happen. Yes. If my parents were different, there is no doubt in my mind that I would be nowhere near as prudential as I am today. I've had no success in dating since I've realized my feelings for Michael; my heart just wasn't in it. They say that success is someone else's failure. Well, if that's true, then I've inherited all of Bill Gates's hoards that have built up over time.

Here's the juicy stuff: what if Vaughn had escaped with me that night he was trapped behind that damn door? Simple answer: nothing. (Not as juicy as you thought, huh?) Not a thing would have resulted in the successful breaking of that door. The mission would have ended like any other: well, maybe an extra hug or lingering touch, but nothing more than that. (It's never more than that, damn it!) But…wait a second; hold on. If we had escaped and gotten back to LA together as planned, there would have been no need for Vaughn's hospitalization. Since I wasn't ill, he wouldn't have been either. And if his immune system hadn't broken down then…I would not have met Alice! What if I hadn't met Alice? Oh wow. This just got more complex than I could have imagined.

If I hadn't become acquainted with this extravagantly _feminine_ creature, I would be still living under the illusion that Michael C. Vaughn was on the market and, therefore, fair game. I could have revealed my emotions to him in the slow, perpetual, almost painstaking way I had wanted to. It probably would have been harsh mental (and physical) torture for him, but I could have been completely at ease and thorough in my decision-making process. If only…I find myself sticking those two words into my heart's vocabulary whenever I indulge in what-ifs. If only this had happened, then this more favourable outcome would have resulted. But I've tried to limit the amount of time I delve into those; I've spent entire sleepless nights sitting on my windowsill and staring unseeingly down onto the street below, just thinking. I'd think so long and hard that I wouldn't realize that dawn had come, my alarm had gone off, and my temples were pulsating as if a high school drum line was "jamming" on my brain. On those days, I was goaded into meekly requesting two tablets from Vaughn's stash (or as it is more commonly called by Weiss, his "jar of happiness"), and I'd have to shake off confused looks and worrisome questions. I suppose if I hadn't met Alice, it wouldn't have been for the better. If "Rita" hadn't "run into" Alice at the hospital and been subsequently told that the latter and her "colleague" were dating, I wouldn't have felt the need to confront my feelings for my handler. If this convergence had never happened, I wouldn't have had the prerogative to de-compartmentalize my emotions and finally sit down to contemplate them at face value, no conditions, variables, or holds barred. The night after I walked away from Vaughn's feeble explanation of their relationship, I pulled one of those all-nighters to carefully sort out how I felt, meticulously picking apart each thought like strands in a thread. In short, I suppose I'm glad that I met Alice. Besides encountering a genuinely nice woman, I had the chance to evaluate what kind of a relationship I would like to have with Mr. Vaughn. And anyways, nice girls finish last, so I'm not hurting much.

Speaking of hurting, I wonder if Francie has discovered that we've run out of Band-Aids _yet again_. I mean, it was only last week that we had three full boxes; after my latest mission, I had to resort to the last of her cache without actually asking. Guess this means that I have to go to the store and pick up four more boxes: three flesh-coloured for me and one Loony Toones for Francie. Put that on my to-do list along with getting back to reality…

Alright, last stop on the what-if train. This one I've been turning over and over in my mind, gnawing on the raw, ruthless facts like a dog on a bone. What if Vaughn and I had made it up to that room in Nice? Would it have gone as far as we both knew we wanted it to? Would caution finally have been thrown to the wind so we could experience one blissful night of uninhibited passion? My answer is probably not. Don't get me wrong: if the circumstances were different, I would have been all over him like stench on a male teen's gym sock. But they weren't, so therefore I wasn't. See, my big hang-up was that technically, he was still going out with Alice. Call me old-fashioned, but I believe it's wrong to sleep with someone who is involved with someone else, no matter where the ardor is lacking or excelling. Now if he had broken up with his girlfriend _before_ our trip to Nice (which, frankly, I would have found a little suspicious)…totally, totally different. Also, I don't know that if we had started to get involved that we would have been able to stop. With both of our suppressed sexual urges and tensed, raging hormones, we probably wouldn't have left that room for days. That just opens up a whole new can of worms with which I really don't want to deal with right now. You know what I've decided? This whole Vaughn-and-me conundrum would be a hell of a lot easier if Alice weren't involved at all. But of course, that would just be the easy was to go about things.

"Friendship is love made bearable." If this is bearable, then give me love; it can't be much worse. 

You know, they say that you can discover more about a person in an hour of play than in a year of conversation. But what if you never get to play?

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Author's Note: You have no idea how proud I am that I was able to write out this second chapter. I have been so freakishly tired these past few days that I haven't been able to stay up past 11 without major pains. Well, last night I had to stay up 'til about Midnight to get this all typed up. And yet I still get up at 7:30 in the morning to proofread and post. I must be crazy. REWARD MY CRAZINESS WITH REVIEWS! LoL. Hope you enjoyed! Any other ideas for POVs? Weiss? Jack? Irina? Who do you want? No one; stop right here? TELL ME!!!

: ) Becky, the Dream Writer 4 Life


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